


What Angelica Said (To Herself)

by tabasco_cookies



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Feels, Gen, Guiltfest, Headcanon, Kind of RPF, Relationship Study, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabasco_cookies/pseuds/tabasco_cookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We know what Angelica said (to Eliza, and to Alexander) when she read what he'd done. But what did she keep to herself? What else did she have going on, aside from sisterly concern and righteous anger?</p><p>Takes place during the spaces between words of The Reynolds Pamphlet.. Somehow some Angelica/John Barker Church romance snuck in here; I have no idea where that came from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. London

John is sitting at his desk in front of a letter from one of his American friends, while Angelica lounges nearby on the settee, trying to wrap her mind around this new treatise laid across her lap, published just recently by a mathematician she met once at a salon in Paris. She's attempting to understand one of Lagrange's algebraic proofs of something (something to do with deriving something expanding a function — what exactly was it that he's trying to derive? — she flips back to the previous page) when John murmurs, "Dear Lord!"

And with that, she's lost her place on the page. Angelica looks up, her focus popped.

Her husband doesn't show much expression in his face, even now, but his voice is a bit more emphatic than usual now as he continues, "You'll never believe what Hamilton's done."

 _That boy_ , she thinks fondly. "What, what has he done now?"

She's expecting an amusing anecdote about some new quarrel with Thomas Jefferson, but John doesn't doesn't begin to recount the story; instead, he holds out the letter and says, "I don't think I can read this out loud." When she reaches out and takes the papers out of his hand, he stands and rubs his temples. "Better take a deep breath. You won't like it."

"Oh, no," she says, and repeats, in a completely different tone, "what has he done now, John?"

John steps beside her, but doesn't respond. She starts to read, and after a beat, he awkwardly pats a hand on her shoulder.

Angelica reads the letter straight through and feels faint.

*****

"We have to go back," Angelica says during breakfast the next morning. 

John raises his cup to his mouth and takes a sip of tea, nodding once as if to say, _Go on_. 

So she continues, "I know that you have business and everything here, but Eliza needs me. I can't let her fight this on her own." 

"That can be arranged," says John. 

"As soon as possible, please," Angelica says. "I know the school session's just started, so the children will need to remain there, but Philip will be here, in case... and you have your solicitor, and when we come back, we'll... " her voice trails off as she realizes she has no idea how to handle the long term of this.

John picks up where she left off. "And haven't we been saying for years that it's about time to go back to America for good? I have a few new prospects in New York, so the timing is no inconvenience. We'll go as soon as we can, the two of us. I'll come back here in the spring to tie up loose ends, and I'll return with the children as soon as everything is ready. It'll be fine. It's not good for you to be away from your family for so long." No mention of his own family, who cut him off the first time he ran away to America and haven't been a part of their lives in London at all, but Angelica has come to realize that not all families are like the Schuylers.

She's felt cold inside ever since reading about her brother-in-law's misdeeds, but John's helpfulness sends a pinprick of warmth through her, which feels excruciating in the same way that running one's hands through warm water after playing in the snow does. He'd stayed awake well into the night the previous evening, claiming overdue paperwork, and all of a sudden she realizes that he must have started putting all of these pieces together while she was still in shock. She has to count in French in her head to hold back the tears, and she's in the twenties before she has any sort of handle on herself.

"By the way, if you're thinking of calling him out," John remarks, "please feel free to use my new Wogdon set. They were very expensive and I'm quite proud of them."

The house is in upheaval all day, as they direct the packing, send out letters to the children, and acquire tickets so that they can leave the very next day. She spends a precious hour writing a letter to her sister to send ahead of them, a long, rambling thing where she goes on about how the first thing she's going to do is to murder Hamilton, and how his ambition and self-importance has blinded him to the things that matter in life, something or other about Icarus and his downfall, and finally, how Eliza is absolutely _not_ to blame herself (as the papers, and the gossip in New York City — if she knows anything about the gossip in New York City, and she knows plenty about the gossip in New York City — are already doing that for her).

One thing she doesn't mention is how sorry she is.

She can't bring herself to ask for the forgiveness she doesn't deserve.

*****

_I just might regret that night for the rest of my days —_

Angelica doesn't sleep well on the voyage to New York. 

The cabin is not large, and the bed they're sharing is cramped. She has the sweats and the chills simultaneously; meanwhile, John sleeps restfully, sprawled out as if he hasn't a care in the world. She tries to avoid tossing and turning so as not to disturb him, and the pent-up energy eats and eats and eats at her.

She tries to tell herself she had no idea anything like this would happen. She tries to tell herself that introducing Eliza to Alexander was intended to be a selfless act of sisterly sacrifice.

And yet. 

She tries to tell herself that though she knew that Alexander was a social climber, she wasn't a snob enough to hold the details of his birth against him; that though she saw the way his eyes lit up when he heard the name "Schuyler," that didn't mean he wouldn't be a good husband. 

And yet. 

And yet, she passed him off to Eliza because it wasn't enough. She had wanted more, had wanted to be chosen as Angelica, not as Miss Schuyler. So she ceded him to her little sister, and now her little sister's name is being dragged through the mud by that lowlife Callender and his pack of creeps. 

_If I had married him instead, would he have been satisfied?_

She only lets herself wonder this once, and the guilt she feels for even daring to think of it nearly overwhelms her. She's relieved when she remembers the summer of 1791, the unanswered letters from both her and Eliza. At the time, they'd fretted that Alexander was worrying himself to death over his financial plan, but in retrospect, he must have been too busy with personal activities to answer their letters.

It comforts her, but just a little, to realize that he didn't choose this Mrs. Reynolds over Eliza; rather, he chose himself over the Schuyler sisters.

If she had married him, and Eliza had married John, it would be her right now in Eliza's position. She's sure of it. 

She tries to tell herself that Eliza wouldn't have wanted to switch places. Eliza would have hated the glittering ballrooms of London and Paris. Eliza likes to sleep at night and give of herself during the day.

She tries to tell herself that no matter what happens with Alexander, Eliza will make it back to the top. Eliza's dignity and intrinsic goodness will become clear to the entire country soon enough. On the other hand, if Angelica were in Eliza's position, she wouldn't bother with a challenge — one of those Wogdons would be out of John's case and the bullet would go right through Hamilton's sensitive areas before he knew what hit him.

But in the end, it boils down to one thing, which is this: If Angelica were in Eliza's position, Eliza wouldn't be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned unanswered letters from the Schuyler sisters to Hamilton in the summer of 1791, but historically, he wrote faithfully (ha ha) and warmly to Eliza the entire summer! There's a lot of correspondence between Hamilton and his family members at [Founders Online](http://founders.archive.gov) and it really challenges the way a modern reader sees the whole Reynolds Affair. (See specifically [this letter from John Church to A. Hamilton](http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-21-02-0095) just before the scandal broke, and [the letters from Alexander to Eliza during the summer of 1791, here](http://founders.archives.gov/index.xqy?df=1791-06-01&q=Author%253A%2522Hamilton%252C%2520Alexander%2522%2520Recipient%253A%2522Hamilton%252C%2520Elizabeth%2522&s=1111211111&r=1&dt=1791-09-01).) 
> 
> Not to excuse it or defend it, but trying to perceive it within the context of different cultural norms is definitely... something. Obviously, this fic takes place in the show canon, and not in real-life history.
> 
> Oh, and the "Wogdon set" that Angelica's husband references is the set of dueling pistols owned by Church used for both the duel where Philip Hamilton died and the infamous Ham/Burr duel. Also, they may or may not have been used for a 1799 duel between Church and Burr. I have no idea when they were purchased IRL.


	2. New York City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Churches arrive in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the slang here is all over the place. Some of it is era-appropriate, and some is really not. #sorrynotsorry

When they roll up to the Hamiltons' home, there's such a rush with directing the luggage and squealing over the children that Angelica is barely able to make eye contact with her sister. Finally, the children are sent back to the nursery and the servants disperse. Eliza sighs and gives a weary smile. "Angelica!"

"Eliza!" Angelica exclaims, rushing over and enveloping her sister in a crushing hug.

They speak at the same time. "It's so good to see you," from Eliza, at the same time as Angelica's, "God, I've missed you." 

"You need to tell me everything, _everything_ , about London," Eliza says. "Let's all sit."

The three of them retire to the drawing room, refreshments are served, and Angelica tells her sister all about her life in England and about some of the French refugees that they've been helping to resettle in America. That brings the talk around to the Lafayette family, and Eliza assures Angelica that Lafayette's son, Georges, is thriving, integrating nicely with the political classes in America, though of course he worries for his family. In return, Angelica assures her sister that Lafayette and his family were freed just before she left England, but unfortunately, she doesn't know anything about their condition, and she still worries for them too.

When that conversation winds down, there are a few minutes of silence and drinking tea, and then Angelica asks, "So, where is he?" Remembering Alexander's habit of bringing his work home and spending evenings locked up with papers, she adds, lowering her voice, "Is he... here?"

Eliza shakes her head. "No, he's been staying at his office. I...I sent him a note the day after the pamphlet was published, saying that I would rather not see him for the time being."

Angelica quickly does the math in her head. "You haven't seen him in nearly two months?"

"I know. I know." Eliza puts down her tea cup and puts her hand on Angelica's. "But I need more time. I can't quite bring myself to look him in the eyes yet."

Angelica squeezes her sister's hand and straightens her shoulders, as she declares, "Well, I have no problem looking him in the eyes. I'm going down there to tell him exactly what I think of him, and I'll be back shortly." After a beat, she clarifies, "That is to say, it won't take long, because I don't think much of him."

*****

She had thought that confronting Alexander would be more satisfying, but when she returns from his office, she feels as guilty as ever. Alexander looked so helpless, and when she shouted at him, he took it and took it and took it, not once challenging her on her hypocrisy. What she needs is for someone to flagellate her, someone to tell her that Eliza would never have been in this situation if not for her.

When she walks into the house, John and Eliza are talking about something in an undertone, and Eliza's smile actually reaches her eyes, which incidentally was _not_ the case earlier today when Angelica made a fantastic pun at the expense of the man who'd hurt her.

Then she remembers that Eliza has good reason not to smile at her, and, still unnoticed, she slips off to go check on little Angelica, who is so much bigger and cleverer than last time they met, and who has no reason at all not to smile at her.

*****

They're exhausted from the voyage, which gives her a good excuse to go to bed early that night, immediately after dinner. Later, she wakes to candlelight and the sounds of the bed curtains opening, as John sits down on her bed. _Not tonight_ , she thinks, rubbing her eyes, though not tonight has been her default for quite a while now. He keeps his hands to himself, though, which means he's not waking her up for lascivious purposes, but that he has something on his mind. Internally, she girds herself.

He observes her for a minute, then says, matter-of-factly, "You haven't been sleeping much lately."

"No," Angelica agrees.

"You must be exhausted," John says.

Angelica doesn't answer. She's not sure whether she's exhausted; that's been the last thing on her mind.

"Still, it seems a little like you've been avoiding your sister, for all that you came here to comfort her."

"Maybe," she says.

"Is it something you'd care to discuss?"

"No. Yes." She sighs and sits up, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her long nightgown. For all that John is not amusing or always exciting, he's a good listener and even more, he's a trustworthy confidant. "I want to help, but I can't face her."

"Why not?"

"It's just that I introduced them," Angelica begins. She knows it sounds trivial without the key words _I kind of wanted to marry him myself but I chose to set him up with her instead,_ but that's not something one tells one's husband about one's brother-in-law. "Even though _I knew_ that he was looking for a rich wife. Which means that I bear a good portion of the responsibility for this. What can I say to her?"

As usual, his expression is inscrutable; he gives off no impression of opinion or judgment. "You know, I know you're always saying that you know your sister like you know your own mind, but sometimes you fail to recognize the difference between the two. In this particular case, I think it's possible that you're ascribing your own feelings to her. I spoke with her this afternoon while you were out, and she was so grateful that you came all the way from London for her." He reaches for her hand now. "Angelica, she doesn't blame you in the least."

Angelica huffs. She understands that he's trying to make her feel better, but absolution will not satisfy her right now. "I know that she's the best of sisters, but if not for me, they never would have met."

"Putting aside whether or not that's true, and I don't mean to belittle what Eliza is going through, but if you think that your sister would trade all of her pain for a lifetime without Hamilton, you're wrong."

"I don't understand that," she says.

He leans back on his arms and looks at her intently. "I do."

That sounds like an accusation, and she welcomes it, knows she deserves it. _That's more like it_ , Angelica thinks, staring at him steadily and getting ready for the outburst.

Without breaking eye contact, John says slowly, "I don't know if you noticed back then, but the first time I met Hamilton and saw the two of you interact, I felt sick for a week. I barely ate or slept."

He's speaking gently, but she wants him to raise his voice, needs someone to reach into her gut and scratch this itch, this, _You're no better than he is_ itch, this, _You deserve each other_ itch, this, _How dare you show up now and pretend to be her advocate?_ Why won't anyone say it out loud? 

"I still need to remind myself sometimes that he's my brother-in-law, and that I don't really hate him."

She knows her line, how she has to continue in order for this scene to play out. "Alexander and I have never... ! "

"Oh, I never imagined that you had. Your sister's happiness is too important to you. But even though we were newlyweds, you never looked at me the way you looked at him, and your feelings were obvious. Eliza knows, you know, and she's never held it against you."

Never held it against her? How could she not? She coveted her sister's husband, how could anyone not hold that against her?

"That's why I never minded any of the other men. That whole story with Jefferson — "

Suddenly, she laughs, the tension broken. To think! Jefferson! "Oh, no! Thomas — he's an outrageous flirt, but that's all it ever was."

"And the Prince of Wales — "

" _That_ spoiled boy? The only feeling he inspires in me is relief that we broke away from Britain before his turn to be king! "

"That's what I mean. How could I be jealous of any silly flirting while you and Hamilton were writing those love letters back and forth?"

It seems so ridiculous, in retrospect. She had such strong feelings for Alexander, didn't she? She can't stop herself from caring about him, even now, but she's embarrassed for her younger self, mooning over him that way. "You never said anything."

"I never said a word," he agrees. "Should I have forbidden you from corresponding with him? I somehow don't see the authoritative approach as the way to your heart."

That takes her aback, and she stammers, "I... had no idea you had any designs on my heart."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Really! Angelica Schuyler Church, have you never met yourself?"

She feels herself blushing. He hasn't spoken this way to her in... well, she doesn't remember him ever speaking this way to her.

"I've never," John starts, then pauses. He looks away, and says," I've never asked you if you've been faithful to me for the entirety of our marriage."

"I — " she begins.

"And I'm not asking you now. Of course, I have a strong preference for — " his voice falters for a moment. "The point is, I've never exactly been the type to try and grab the spotlight," he continues, turning back to her, "but you married me, and you have no idea what that means, to be a part of your life."

Angelica narrows her eyes. "This story doesn't paint a very flattering picture of me." A spoiled starlet, whizzing through her own trajectory, being so condescending and generous as to sometimes let her sparkle rub off onto others. Not exactly the republicanism with which she'd been raised.

"I knew who you were when I married you. But, Angelica, do you? Do you know how many lives you've changed, how many lives you've saved? Even something as shallow as our money — Lord knows I'm no tremendous philanthropist, but we have done some great things with our money, and I daresay my businesses wouldn't be half of what they are if not for your ingenuity."

"And? Does that somehow make it okay?" she demands angrily, possibly misplaced anger, but dammit, someone around here has got to start yelling, and if no one else will do it, then she will. "It's okay to play around with other people's hearts as long as you counteract it by doing good deeds in your spare time? Alexander can sleep with other women and publish the details to the entire country, but, oh, let's forgive him because he opened up a few banks?"

John laughs without mirth. "Well, if it helps, I think he's learned his lesson about sleeping with other women."

" _That doesn't make it okay_!"

"You're right, it's not okay," he says calmly.

"Well, _make_ it okay!" she sobs, bringing her fists to his shirt and grabbing at the fabric. "I need you to make it okay!"

He puts his arm around her shoulder and she cries into his chest for a few minutes.

"I'm so sorry. I can't explain away his actions. I know how much you esteemed him, and he let you down. I wish I could make it better, but only time can do that."

Angelica allows herself a final sniffle, then wipes her face with the handkerchief he holds out to her, and says, "Time can't change the facts."

He holds her, and his voice is steady. "It's true, Alexander did a very bad thing, but who he is at heart is not a person who steps out on his wife and tells the world about it. He can change his actions so that they reflect who he is. I think that Eliza will forgive him, but not tomorrow. She'll forgive him when she's ready to forgive him and when he's shown that he's ready to be forgiven."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I hear everything you're saying, but it's still hard for me to accept."

"I know it is."

"I don't want that to be me one day. Please don't let me off the hook that easily." She leans away in order to face him, to look him in the eye. "John. If it hurts you when I flirt with other men, tell me."

He looks her over, as if considering his answer, then gives a half-smile and says, "It depends. As long as you come home to me at the end of the day..." And, possessively, he takes her hand and pulls her towards him, so that she falls right onto him.

And God help her, she giggles, madly, and just manages to get out, "That would be enough, would it?"

He starts to tickle her, oh God. But he knows when to let up, and he's serious again when he wraps an arm around her waist and asks if she intends to spend time alone with Eliza tomorrow.

Angelica nods. "Yes. I would love to do that."

"Good. The two of you need to talk," John says. "I don't usually break confidences, but I should probably tell you that she's worried that you'll be disappointed in her if she decides not to leave him."

"Is she?"

"She is."

"Damn."

"Would you be?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "How could I be disappointed in her? She's an adult. She knows what's best for her."

"Will you tell her?"

"Of course." Angelica yawns and settles into him. "I'm so glad we're home."

"Me too."

It takes a few seconds for Angelica to realize that it's no small thing, an Englishman saying he's glad to be home in New York, and she's been married for twenty years and her children are nearly grown, but for the first time, she has an unshakable yearning to really make a home, settle down on a patch of land and say, _This is where I live; this is the Church home._

This is the moment where she decides to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Lafayette: Angelica and her husband helped Lafayette escape from prison in Austria (where he had been captured while fleeing the French Terror) in 1793, but he was recaptured soon after. Meanwhile, his wife and daughters were imprisoned in France. In 1975, Adrienne and children were freed, their son went to America, and wife and daughters joined Lafayette in captivity. The Reynolds Pamphlet was published at the end of August 1797, and the Lafayette family was released from captivity mid-September of the same year. Considering the distance that both pieces of news needed to travel, Angelica would probably have heard about the Lafayettes' release before she left England, but it's cutting it too close to think that she would have been able to communicate with them at all, not to mention England and France kind of being at war with each other might have made things awkward.
> 
> I don't know why I'm writing all this; the rest of you have probably read all these Wikipedia pages just as many times as I have.


End file.
